


It's Okay to Not Be Okay

by MissMR



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A supportive Abby Griffin, Angst, Clarke Griffin & John Murphy Friendship, Depression, Doctor/Artist Clarke, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Octavia Blake & Clarke Griffin & Raven Reyes are Best Friends, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-11-01 14:05:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20816378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMR/pseuds/MissMR
Summary: “Just shut up, okay, and let me have this moment,” he said, and after a moment, he let her go and spoke again, “Clarke, you have to know that you have people who care about you. I care about you. You can’t do that again Next to Bellamy and Miller, you’re one of my best friends.”“Well, as one of your best friends, can I ask a favor?”“It’s about Bellamy, huh?”She nodded. “Watch out for him.”“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him. But, right now, I’m worried about you. Are you going to be okay?”Clarke smiled a close-lipped smile. “I’ll be okay.” It was the first lie she told this entire time because she had no idea if she was going to be okay, but she had to believe she would be.(or, Clarke thought she escaped this hollowness that left her feeling empty, but the darkness has a way of pulling her back in.)





	1. Falling and Getting Back Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction for The 100, and I'll a little nervous about posting. It's been a while since I shared anything. It started because my phone kept deciding to play Break Up in a Small Town by Sam Hunt in the morning on my way to class, and I couldn't get this out of my head. So, now this piece exists. I'm pretty certain it veered about from the song though. I just hope it's at least somewhat good.

“Are you coming tonight?” Raven asked as she raided through her closet.

Clarke shrugged. She picked at the loose red thread on Raven’s comforter. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I have work tomorrow.”

“I’m sure that’s the reason.” Clarke didn’t need to see the eye roll because she heard it. “You know, you can’t avoid him forever.”

“I’m not avoiding anybody.”

Raven stopped shuffling through her clothes. She looked at Clarke for a moment before she shook her head. “Alright. So, we’re gonna deny shit,” Raven said and resumed her search for an eye-popping outfit.

Clarke knew exactly what Raven was talking about. She knew it was going to be hard, but Clarke never thought a year later she’d still find herself wanting to hide from him. Clarke hadn’t been able to be around Bellamy for more than fifteen minutes since they broke up. The end of their relationship was completely her call, and at the time, it was the right move. She was unraveling, and the more she tried to wind herself back up she’d slip and end up worse than before.

So, yes. Clarke was avoiding Bellamy. Raven was right, but when wasn't Raven right. Clarke avoiding him was the easiest thing for her. She’s in a better place than she was a year ago, but she isn’t in a place to allow someone into her life romantically. And that’s the real reason she avoids Bellamy. If she allows herself to spend more than those fifteen minutes around him, Clarke knows she'd gaze into his eyes for a second too long and get pulled in. His brown eyes were always a weakness to her, especially when he smiled. But one of those real genuine smiles that reached his eyes, and they shined enough to have her forget her name. She was a sucker for those damn eyes.

Clarke ripped a long tread from the comforter and wrapped it around her finger. She stared absently as Raven held a red dress to her body before hanging it back up.  
“Okay, maybe you’re right.”

Raven scoffed. “Of course, I am. I’m always right. So, does that mean you’re coming tonight?”

“No,” she stated and unraveled the tread. “I can’t.”

* * *

After Raven left for the night, Clarke opened a bottle of wine. She doesn’t mean to separate herself from everyone, but she doesn’t know how to act around them, specifically him.

Clarke knows her friends, their friends, didn’t mean to pick sides because there weren’t sides to be picked. Her and Bellamy agreed to be friends after they broke up—after she broke up with him. But she can’t help but feel as if they sided with Bellamy. Not that she can blame any of them. She did pull away from them. She’d been so focused on rebuilding herself that she might have forgotten to check in with them every once in a while, and it doesn’t help that every time she was invited to dinner or the bar or whatever it was the group was up to, she comes up with some excuse all because she can’t face him.

She can’t help but feel like an outsider though. She was an outsider. Clarke met Octavia sophomore year of college, and through Octavia, she met Monty and Jasper. Octavia quickly became one of her best friends, and becoming close with Octavia meant undergoing the big brother test. The first step was the endless questions Bellamy Blake asked, and with every contorted eyebrow and eye twitch, she wanted to strangle him. It wasn’t the fact that he seemingly didn’t like her answers, but it was the fact he felt he was owed an explanation from her. Clarke was Octavia’s friends, not his. So, why did he care so much? She didn’t need him to like her.  
However, it was upon spending time with Octavia, and Bellamy by extension, that her question was answered. Bellamy cared because that’s just who he is, especially when it involves someone he cares about and his sister was at the top of the list. And, it was after hearing about their childhood and everything Bellamy had to sacrifice with an absentee father and their mom passing that Clarke understood everything. He was skeptical of everyone new who entered his life. But it was after understanding Bellamy that Clarke was able to let Bellamy understand her and a friendship was able to develop, and with Bellamy’s friendship came Miller’s and Murphy’s.

The only real friends she had that weren’t connected to Blake siblings were Raven and Wells, and she met Raven through a less than conventional way. Who would have thought that having the same boyfriend could serve as a foundation for an everlasting friendship. But somehow Raven integrated into the group of friends, and they welcomed her—after she passed Bellamy’s big brother test. And Wells, well she had Wells’ friendship.

So, it was easier to fall into the background than put them into an uncomfortable situation. Octavia was one of her best friends, but she was Bellamy’s sister first, and the rest of them knew him first. She knew they never choose sides, but she took herself out because Clarke was a little afraid that hers wouldn’t be the one they’d pick, and she’d be left with no one.

Clarke settled herself on the sofa in her and Raven’s living room. She took a long drink of her glass of wine, finishing half the glass. She wondered if it would be better to just drink from the bottle. She stared at the painting hanging near the front door. It was one she had done a year ago—before everything happened. It was a watercolor painting of blues, starting with a darker blue on the outsider that slowly built to a lighter blue to an almost white in the center. It was meant to look like the perspective from the ocean floor and staring up. She wasn’t sure she painted it because she always saw the ocean as calming or because she felt like she was drowning.

Her eyes move to the clock mounted on the wall and sees it’s just after eight, and it’s only a matter of minutes before her phone rings with her overconcerned mom. She thinks about not answering it, but she also knows if she doesn’t answer, her mom would be rush over even though it would take hours to get here. So, when Clarke’s phone rings, she groans but picks it up.

“Right on time. As always,” Clarke said, opting out of the standard hello. “How much longer are we going to have these check-in calls?”

“Until I know someone else besides myself and your therapist knows what happened.” Clarke heard her mom sigh over the phone. “I would feel more comfortable if you told someone. Preferably Raven since she is your roommate.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Clarke swirled her wine around. “And, it’s been eleven months. I’m better. I don’t need you hovering over me.”

“Really? Because the second I stopped you—”

“I know what I did,” Clarke cut her mom off. “I,” Clarke exhaled loudly. “Look, I’m dealing with it. I see Dr. Nyko once a week. It’s helping. I should tell you I slowly stopped taking my medication, but I feel good.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Sometimes that just means I need to keep taking them,” Clarke interrupted her mom again. “I know. But Dr. Nyko and I talked about it. It wasn’t a rash decision. I’m really doing better, mom.”

“Okay, but please think about telling someone. It would put me more at ease. I’m five hours away. Or.” There was something in her mom’s voice that Clarke recognized. It’s the sound of Abby Griffin getting an idea she thinks is brilliant. “What if you transfer to Polis Medical? You can come stay with me until you can find a place of your own.”

Clarke finished the remaining wine in her glass and held her phone between her shoulder and ear as she reached for the bottle. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since the moment I found you in father’s study.”

Clarke felt guilt rush through her, or maybe it was the alcohol or a mixture of both. She stared at the newly filled glass in her hands. Her first reaction is to apologize, but through therapy, she learned that it was something she needed to stop. Instead, she decided to go for something that’d put some relief to her mom’s mind.

“I’ll tell Raven.”

“When?” Her mom immediately asked.

“Soon. I promise.”

* * *

It’s been almost two weeks since she made that promise to her mom. She knows she should feel guilty for not having kept her world, but she thinks she’d feel more guilty for putting her problems on one of her best friends. And, she can’t do that.

Clarke has just left Dr. Nyko’s office, and he may or may not have subtlety agreed with her mom to talk to her friends, but his reason had to do with the belief that talking may be helpful so she doesn’t feel alone in the world. He made it very transparent that he didn’t believe in Clarke’s idea of baring it all. His reason, “No one is Atlas”. She knew both of them were right, but it didn’t mean she had to do it, but it did feel nice to have her mom back off a little after she made the promise.

So, on second thought, Clarke decided to stop at Raven’s favorite bakery on the way home and pick up some of the sugar cookies that were way too sweet to eat more than one but Raven loved them. Clarke knew Raven was going to go through a moment of shock, but she also knew one of the emotions Raven was going to feel was anger for keeping such a secret because one thing Raven Reyes hated more than being wrong was being left in the dark.

When Clarke was waiting for the light to change to cross the street, she spots him and he isn’t alone. She can’t see the face of the person sitting across from him, but Clarke can see the smile spread across Bellamy’s face. His smile was always so illuminating, and it filled her stomach with butterflies to see this particular smile he wore, but this time it wasn’t directed towards her. Bellamy moved on. It’s the only thing going through Clarke’s mind. She wasn’t sure what to feel. She broke up with him. He had ever right to move on, but it didn't mean she stopped loving him. No, Clarke could never stop loving Bellamy, but she stopped loving herself. She's actually never sure she ever did love herself, and that’s what scared her.

She knows she should leave before he sees her. Clarke can feel the tears beginning to burn her eyes, and if she still knows Bellamy, which she hopes she does, he’d rush over to make sure she was okay. Or maybe he wouldn’t. He did move on after all. She and her feelings are no longer his responsibility. It’s not something Clarke is willing to find out, so she turns around and rushed up the street in the opposite direction. Arkadia is a small town, and Clarke loves it because she can easily walk everywhere. However, right now, Clarke was wishing she had her car because all she wanted to do was cry in the comfortability of her apartment rather than the streets of Arkadia with her ex-boyfriend down the road.

* * *

Clarke wasn’t aware she slammed the door behind her until Raven’s voice pierced through the apartment.

“What the fuck?!”

Clarke doesn’t offer a response. She sauntered over to the sofa and dropped herself. She feels like her world is crashing, and she can’t explain it. She doesn’t know why seeing Bellamy with someone else rattled something inside her. It was her idea for them to go back to being friends, and how could she expect him to wait around for her when she never gave him a real reason why she put an end to their relationship. She can’t help but wonder if she did tell him the reason why the could no longer be together if he would have waited for her, if he would have been patience, and this very thought sent her over the edge because Clarke believes he would have.

A heart retching sob escaped from Clarke, and she gasped for air. It’s only a matter of seconds before she felt arms around her.  
“Hey, what happened?” Raven held her, but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to answer.

Neither one of them said anything for what feels like hours. Clarke is trying to find comfort in Raven’s arms, but it’s hard to when something is missing within yourself—something Clarke had no idea what it was.

“He, he’s.” A cry came out, and she covered her mouth.

“Who did what?” Raven rubbed circles on Clarke’s back.

Clarkes took a shaky breath and straightened herself. “Bellamy. He’s seeing someone.”

Clarke felt Raven go ridged next to her, and when Clarke glanced at her, Raven was looking everywhere else except at her. Clarke took that moment to dry her tears even though the wetness returned as soon as it was dried.

“You knew?” Raven said nothing. “How long?”

“I, we wanted to tell you.”

“We?”

“Me and Octavia.” Raven sighed and ran a hand down her face. “He brought her to the bar a couple of weeks ago.”

Raven shifted so she was facing Clarke. “I really wanted to tell you, but I was scared how’d you react. You barely reacted the first time which was fucking crazy because I knew you loved him. But after Wells,” Raven dropped her head and shook it, “after Wells, something changed. You broke up with Bellamy and then disappeared for a month. A whole damn month, Clarke! None of us had any idea where the hell you were, and then you come back throw yourself into your work at the hospital. You came back a fucking zombie. I didn’t know how hearing Bellamy has a girlfriend was going to affect you, and I couldn’t have you gone again.” Raven had tears in her eyes, and one blink would send them over the rim. “I didn’t want to keep it a secret, but I didn’t know how to tell you."

Clarke laughed humorlessly. “You aren’t the only one keeping secrets.”

“What do you mean?”

Clarke wiped more tears away. “Raven, I was gone because I…I wanted to kill myself.” She swiped at her cheeks again. “I would have done it if my mom hadn’t found me.”

Raven’s eyes grew in size, and her blinking allowed her tears to spill over.

“I don’t understand.”

Clarke tried to calm herself with breathing. 1, 2, 3 in. 1, 2, 3 out. She hadn’t told anyone what happened to her, aside from her mom and Dr. Nyko and a colleague of Dr. Nyko’s. Clarke didn’t want Raven to feel like she missed something, that she could have stopped her. Truth be told, nothing was able to stop her, not willingly that is.

“I don’t either. I think Wells dying was the final thing to send me over the edge,” Clarke said. “Before his accident, things weren’t good with me. I was pushing Bellamy away because I thought he deserved better than what I could offer him. I wasn’t happy with work. I just wasn’t happy. And when I got the call about Wells, I, I don’t know.”

Clarke hates that she can’t stop herself from crying. She was realizing she hadn’t spoken about Wells since his funeral, since Thelonious asked Clarke to give the eulogy. Clarke became like her mom after her dad died. Every time Clarke wanted to talk about her dad with someone who knew him, someone who could share stories about him, her mom would shut down. Clarke was a lot like her mom than she wanted to admit because every time Bellamy tried to talk about Wells, Clarke was quick to change the subject. It was Bellamy’s inability to let her grieve in her own unhealthy way that made her finally put an end to their relationship.

“Rae, he was my best friend.” It was the truth. She had Raven and Octavia, and they were her best friends, but no one quite understood her like Wells Jaha did.

“I know,” Raven whispered and reached over to grab Clarke’s hand.

“I, I didn’t plan it. I just needed to get away from Arkadia for a bit, so I went to visit my mom in Polis. And for as long as it took me to dial his number, I forgot Wells was dead.” Clarke indrawn a deep breath and released with a cry. “How do I forget my best friend died? How?! I was going to invite him over because the only time I ever saw him was when I went to Polis. Which I should have visited it more. I just always assumed we’d have more time.”

Another shaky breath.

“Wells was the only person who would listen to me tell stories about my dad and understood them because he knew him, and Wells would share his own about him. We’d do this for Wells’ mom too. And that’s when it hit me. Not only did I lose my best friend, but I was going to lose the memory of my dad. My mom won’t talk about my dad with me. I was already at a low, and that sent me into this void.”

Clarke closed her eyes to stop the tears. She wanted them to stop. It’s the reason why she never talked about what she did, what she wanted to do. The floodgates opened, and she couldn’t close them.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I, I didn’t want to feel the way I was feeling. I wanted my dad. I wanted Wells. I wanted Bellamy, but I screwed that up.”

Clarke paused. She didn’t want to tell this part of her story, but her mom was right. She needed to tell someone. She needed someone close to her who knew what happened. Her mom knew but when Clarke was falling apart like she was now, it would be helpful to have someone close by.

Clarke dropped her head and her hair covered her face. “At that moment, I didn’t want to exist. I found my dad’s gun. I would have thought my mom would have gotten rid of it when my dad died, but she kept it locked away. I wasn’t thinking, Rae,” Clarke cried and pleaded with her eyes for Raven to understand. “I just wanted it to stop.”

She shook her head. “It would have. I would have shot myself if I had realized the safety was on.”

Clarke vaguely remembered placing the gun to her temple and pulling the trigger. She held her breath, but nothing happened. Her dad always told her about the safety—to make sure it was on after he’d take her to the shooting range, to make sure it was off in times of an emergency. She’d think she would remember to flick the safety off the number of times her dad instilled it into her to remember, but she forgot. Maybe she forgot for a reason. Maybe it was her dad and Wells watching over her, but that idea brought her no comfort during that moment. She remembered feeling nothing and moving on autopilot. She remembered thinking about her dad and Wells and wanting more than anything to see them again, to talk to them again.

“I would have done it if my mom hadn’t physically taken the gun from me. I, I would have shot myself.”

It’s one of the few things Clarke will never forgive herself for. She’ll never forget the look her mom had when Clarke caught onto what was happening—why she no longer felt the weight of the gun in her hand. Her mom looked mortified. She had lost her husband six years ago, and she would have lost her daughter had she came home a minute or two later. Clarke wanting to take her own life was one of few times she allowed herself to be selfish and look how horribly wrong that almost turned out.

Clarke looked at Raven for the first time since she started talking, and she saw the dampness on Raven’s face.

“I don’t want to die anymore.” Raven pulled Clarke towards her and held onto her tightly, and Clarke could hear Raven sniffling near her ear.

When Raven finally let her go, she studied her face. “Why didn’t you tell me? None of that bullshit about not wanting pity. I wouldn’t have. I know how that feels.” Raven gestured to the brace around her leg. “But I would have been there for you. So, why didn’t you say anything to anyone?”

Clarke shrugged. “I didn’t want people watching my every move. My mom was doing plenty of that. I just wanted to come back and leave that behind.”  
“I had a lapse in judgment,” Clarke said sheepishly.

“A lapse in judgment?” Raven echoed. “This isn’t chopping off your hair after Finn or getting a tattoo after Lexa. Clarke, you tried to fucking kill yourself! Don’t downplay this. Don’t you dare!” Raven’s bottom lip trembled. “You wouldn’t have been here. Do you understand that? Clarke…you’re all I have.”

At Raven’s words, Clarke was now the one to pull Raven into her arms. “I’m better now,” Clarke whispered. Raven pulled away to look at Clarke’s face. “I promise. I’ve been getting help. I’m not okay. I can admit that, but I am better today than I was a year ago.”

Both of them dry their faces, and Clarke didn’t realize how heavy the secret weighed on her shoulders but telling Raven allowed her to breathe a little easier.  
“What do you say about staying in instead of going to the bar and meeting everyone?”

Clarke tried not to let the fact she had no idea everyone was meeting at the bar tonight phase her, but she couldn’t blame them for not including her. They must have assumed she was too busy or maybe that Raven would pass the message along.

“No, no, we should go. I meant it, Rae. I really am better.”

“Are you sure? Bellamy is going to be there.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Clarke,” Raven sighed, “he’s not gonna be alone.”

“I’ll be fine.” Raven furrowed her eyebrows. “I will be, and if I’m not, I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

* * *

Clarke followed behind Raven into the bar, and she tried to ignore the constant glances Raven was sending her way. She just told one of her bests friends that she tried to kill herself. Of course, she’s going to be worried.

“Remember the minute you aren’t fine you tell me.”

“I know, Rae.”

“You can be annoyed. I don’t care. I’m gonna worry.”

She grabbed Clarke’s wrist and pushed her way towards the booth in the corner. “Look who I managed to drag out of the apartment.”

Heads snap in Clarke’s direction, and she sees the smiles that are directed towards her. It makes her feel warm. It’s not that she thought they’d forgotten her, but maybe that it was easier without her around. It has been months since she’s been with all of them at once. She’s texted with everyone, and everyone besides Miller and Bellamy has come over to the apartment to hang out. But being here and having almost everyone sitting in front of her, smiling at her, Clarke feels a piece of her that’s been missing settle into place.

“Clarke!” Her friends’ voices blend into one.

“She’s actually here, right? I’m not hallucinating,” Jasper said as he stared at her with wide eyes and an equally wide grin.

“Nah, she’s here.” Murphy slid out of the booth and didn’t waste any time hugging Clarke.

Of all the friendships she’s created with everyone in the group, Murphy’s was the most surprising to Clarke. She isn’t even sure how it happened because she couldn’t stand him in the beginning. She learned fast it was best to keep some distance from him, but somewhere along the way arguing stopped and talking began.

“Nice to know you aren’t dead.”

“I literally texted you yesterday.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, what did Reyes promise to get you to come out?”

Clarke looked at Raven and pursed her lips together. She looked back at Murphy. “Nothing. I just had a day and need a few drinks to forget.”

“Now that I can do.”

Murphy turned taking Clarke with him. He waited until they were at the bar until he dropped his hand. He looked at her and sighed. “Someone needs to tell you, so I guess I’m going to be the one.”

“Is this about Bellamy?” He nodded. “Then I know.”

“You know? Who told you?”

“No one. I…I saw them.”

If she was going to talk about this any longer, she needed alcohol in her system. Clarke waves down the bartender and orders a blue moon and a double shot of patron and wastes no time throwing the shot back as soon as it was placed in front of her.

“Well, I see you took it well,” Murphy muttered.

“Who is she?”

“I thought you said you saw them.”

“Yes, him but only the back of her.”

Murphy rubbed the back of his neck. “Echo,” he said just as Clarke took a sip of her beer.

“Echo?” She coughed. “As is Echo who fought Octavia and tried to fight me the first night we met her, Echo?”

“The one and only. I guess she’s changed.”

“Yeah, a person can really change in a few years,” Clarke muttered, and Murphy must have heard her because he shrugged.

“Are you gonna be alright?”

Clarke doesn’t say anything. She takes a long pull of her beer signaling once again for the bartender for another. “Clarke?” Murphy grabbed her shoulder.

“Trust me, I’ve been through worst.” She held her hand up. “I don’t want to talk about. I’ve done enough of that today to hold me over for a while.”

And because she knows Murphy, Clarke knows this is enough to get him to stop. It’s one of the many ways they are alike. They’ll talk when they want to talk, and if they’re pushed, they’ll only shut down and push the person away. They’ve both agreed it’s unhealthy, but somehow neither one can stop doing it.

“But you’ll be okay when you see them tonight? Because they are coming.”

Clarke couldn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. She had no idea how she was going to react when she saw them together— what if Bellamy nuzzle his face into Echo’s neck the way he would do to her, or drew patterns on her shoulder the way he did to Clarke. She wasn’t sure if she could stomach it, but more than anything she knew it was all her fault. Her own pain was a direct correlation to her actions. She could lie and tell Murphy she’d be fine, but before she could, she felt arms wrap around her from behind.

“You came!” Clarke leaned into the touch recognizing the voice right away.

“I thought it was time I came out and socialized.”

“You think! I’ve missed my drinking partner.”

Clarke laughed. “I miss you, too, O.” And, it was the truth.

She didn’t mean to, but she knew she pulled away from Octavia the most. It was unintentionally at first, the same way she was pulling away from all the others. But with Octavia, Clarke knew it was different. Octavia reminded her too much of Bellamy at certain times. It wasn’t with their looks, but with who they are as people—which is pretty damn great. And, she knew most of all that she’d ask Octavia about Bellamy any chance she got. She needed to be the dark about everything Bellamy. If Bellamy was doing good, it’d break her more than she already was at the time because it meant he really was better without her. But if she knew he was doing bad, she’d want to fix it, fix them, but she couldn’t damn well fix anything when she was broken.

“What do you say to getting shots? I need one before,” Octavia stopped.

“It’s okay, she knows,” Murphy said.

“I’m—”

“No,” Clarke started, “don’t apologize. Let’s get drunk. That’s what I need.”

And for a couple of hours, Clarke tried to get as drunk as fast as she could. She took another shot at the bar with Octavia and Murphy. When she returned to the table, Jasper insisted they all take one together and then another and another. She had two more beers, but it doesn’t feel like enough. She felt the warm tingles flood throughout her body three shots ago—a feeling she welcomed. She knew she was between the line of buzzed and drunk and very close to crossing over. It was only a matter of minutes. Octavia always laughed because one minute Clarke would be fine, and the next her words would slur mid-sentence and wouldn’t be able to walk a straight line.

Bellamy still hadn’t shown, and she hated that she felt relief. Besides earlier today, it has been a little over a month since she last saw him. But the last time she did, he was single or maybe he wasn’t. Either way, she was in the dark. It’s funny. Being consumed by darkness is what drove her to try to end her life, but being in the dark kept a little hope inside of her alive. She wasn’t sure how he was going to react once he saw her, but she’d see it on his face before his mouth opened. Bellamy is not good at keeping his emotions under wraps. It’s one thing she loves about him. He wears his heart on his sleeve for the world to see. It’d be a damn share if he hid it.

“Bellamy’s here,” Miller announced to the table, waving his phone.

“Wow, only a couple hours late this time.” Murphy sounded annoyed.

Clarke tried to be oblivious to Miller looking at her and then the rest of the group, trying to communicate a secret message. A message she already knew. She’s aware they’re trying to keep it from her to spare her feelings but did they forget she was the one who ended the relationship. It might be something Clarke will forever regret, and be up there on the list of things she’ll always want to go back to and handle it differently, but they don’t know that. So, why spare her feelings?

She downed the last half of her beer. “I’m going to the bathroom.” It’s what Clarke meant to say, but she spoke so fast and was over the line now, so she wasn’t sure if anyone understood until she heard Octavia’s soft, “I’ll go with you.”

Clarke slid out of the booth and immediately tripped over her own feet.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Octavia wrapped an arm around Clarke’s waist to support her, and Clarke laughed but it died in on her lips when she caught sight of the entrance.

Bellamy had his arm wrapped around a tall brunette. Fucking Echo, of all the people in the world, and the few thousand in Arkadia, why did he have to move on with her. Sure, people change all the time. But her, seriously? Clarke can’t help but wonder if Echo also feels the same spark Clarke felt whenever Bellamy touched her or whenever he was near her.

She felt a burning sensation in her nose, the very sensation that told her she was on the verge of tears. She couldn’t cry not here. A piece had returned tonight when she saw all her friends, when she was with all of them, but as Clarke looked at Bellamy with someone else, something in her dulls. Not enough to leave her in darkness, but enough to know any progress she made didn’t matter anymore. She wasn’t at square one, more like square two, and one look Raven’s way communicated everything Clarke needed to say. She wasn’t okay.

“Actually, I’m kind of tired. What do you say we go home?” Raven moved to stand.

“What? But Bell just got here,” Octavia complained. Clarke shifted her weight to Raven, but Octavia didn’t let her go. “It’s been forever since we were all together.”

Clarke looked at Raven, and she was sure eyes were shining with tears. She hoped they spoke the words she couldn’t physically say.

“How about we have breakfast tomorrow? Just us.” Raven gestured to the three of them.

“What I’m not invited?” Murphy piped in. “I’ve missed Clarke too.”

“If he gets to come, then so do I,” Jasper argued.

“You guys all come,” Clarke spoke before she knew what she was saying.

“Okay, now that that’s settled. Let’s get out of here.” Raven’s words were rushed.

Octavia released her hold on Clarke, and when Raven and Clarke turned to stammer away, Clarke saw Bellamy and Echo connected at the lips. A peck would have been manageable to see, but Echo’s hand played with the hair at the nape of his neck, and Bellamy had one hand wrapped around her lower back holding Echo firmly against him. Clarke remembered that feeling. Her breath got caught in her throat, and she stopped mid-step. She was going to have to pass them to leave.  
“It’s okay. I got you, Clarke,” Raven whispered only for her to hear. “I promise.”

Raven tried to tug her forward, but Clarke’s feet wouldn’t move. Raven pulled again, but this time Clarke tugged away sending her to the ground with a loud thump and that was her mistake. She should have known he’d rushed to wherever he heard a commotion. It’s who Bellamy is—always trying to help. Again, it was something she loves about him. But this one time, Clarke wished he would ignore that instinct within himself or that the bar was bigger and louder so the sound of her fall didn’t ring through the entire place.

“Shit.” Raven stepped towards her, but Clarke wasn’t looking at her. She was looking passed her. Bellamy was only a few steps away, and luckily Raven was hiding her from his view.

“He’s behind me isn’t he,” she said as she crouched down to try to help a drunk Clarke off the ground, and Clarke nodded too afraid to talk.

“Hey, Raven, do you need any help?” His voice died off at the end of the question when his eye met Clarke’s. Those damn brown eyes. “Clarke.” He said her name so delicately as if it was made of glass and any slip would shatter it, but it’s the way it slipped from his lips that made her want to rush over to him. He said it like he was scared she was going to run away, which in fairness is what she was doing. But he didn’t know that, and she didn’t want him to think she didn’t want to be around him because God did she want to, but not here, not now, not while he was with someone else.

“I got it, Blake.”

But Raven did not have it. Clarke was frozen in her spot on the ground. She wished she had enough alcohol that would erase the night from her mind. She wished she never agreed to come out and just listened to Raven because she was always right. Why doesn’t Clarke listen to her more?

“Are you sure?” He stepped forward, and Clarke inched away.

“Yes, I’m sure. Clarke?” Raven guided Clarke’s face so she focused on a different pair of brown eyes. “I need you to help me. Can you help me?” Clarke said nothing, and Raven dropped her head and leaned forward “If you don’t help me, Bellamy is going to have to help me.”

The thought of Bellamy touching her sent a wave of anxiety through her. She loved to feel his hands around her again even if it was for a split second, but it wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t be like the little moments he’d hold her just because he could, because he wanted to because she was his to hold. It’d be because she was too drunk and couldn’t get off the ground on her own, and as soon as he stopped touching her, he’d be touching someone else. Someone that the title of Bellamy’s girlfriend belonged to. So, Clarke hooked her arm around Raven’s shoulder and helped lift herself off the ground.

“I got you,” Raven whispered again.

“You guys are leaving already?” Bellamy asked. He looked at Clarke, but when his gaze lingered too much, she looked away.

“Yeah. This one drank a little too much a little too fast.”

Bellamy tried to laugh. It wasn’t real. Clarke knew what his real laugh sounded like. It’s overly cheesy to say it was her favorite sound, but fuck it. It is. That’s what Bellamy did to her. But this laugh. This stupid halfhearted laugh was the worst one of all. It was the same one he did when he had a bad day, and she tried to do anything to cheer him up. Sometimes it worked, but other times it didn’t and she ends up with this laugh. A laugh that let her know something was truly bothering him.

“Are you okay?” Clarke knew he was asking her, but she didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded and offered him a wry smile. “Do you need help getting her home?” It was directed towards Raven.

“Nah, we’re good. It’s just down the street.” Raven stepped forward pulling Clarke with her. She doesn’t look at Bellamy. She doesn’t say anything to him when she walks by him, and she ignores his voice when he tells Raven to text him to let him know they’re safe. However, before she walks out of the bar, Clarke chances a look over her shoulder, and he’s already looking at her. There’s a sad smile on his lips, and she knows she’s to blame for it because he was wearing a genuine one before he saw her. She was doing better, she really was. Maybe her mom had the right idea about her leaving. It wouldn’t have to be forever, but some space sounded nice.

* * *

The next morning the room is spinning, and Clarke’s head is throbbing. Her eyes feel puffy from crying on the walk home and for some time after she and Raven got home. She knew it was going to be hard to see Bellamy be with someone else, but she underestimated how hard it would be. All the progress that happened over the last year felt like it withered away in the matter of a day. She can’t allow herself to go down that path. The darkness was overwhelming, and she was saved last time, but only barely. She won’t take the chance—she can’t, and she’s not going to.

Her phone rattled against her dresser, and she blindly reached for it.

“Hello.” Her voice was hoarse. She desperately needed water.

“Clarke?” There was her overconcerned mom again. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a long night.” She rubbed her forehead before slowly dropping her legs over the edge of her bed.

“You texting about the transfer wasn’t just a drunken mistake, right?”

Clarke slumped over, and the movement made her dizzy. “No,” she said, but maybe it was. Maybe it was a rash decision to make, but she did it. Her drunken self plus the emotional turmoil had taken charge, and Clarke was going to follow through with it because it seems like the best choice compared to staying.  
“Okay, good. Well, I already made phone calls. You start on Monday. Is that fine?”

With packing and traveling, there was a day to say goodbye. Today to be exact because tomorrow she’d have to get up early and at least pack her essentials, leaving stuff behind could be her reason to visit, and Polis was at least a five-hour drive. She’d thought there’d be more time. It wasn’t meant to be this soon. She didn’t want it to be this soon, but it is.

“Yea, that’s good.” Clarke reluctantly stood and shuffled to her bathroom. “I probably won’t be there until late Sunday night.”

“I know you’re hesitant, but this is a good move.” She doesn’t say anything because, with a clearer mind, she knows her mom was right. She usually was most of the time, just like Raven was.

Clarke hangs up with her mom, strips out of her clothes and avoids the mirror. A reflection wasn’t needed for her to know she looked like shit. She knows it, and she feels like it too. A few too many shots and beers will do that to someone, but it’s also the fact that Arkadia will no longer be her home. Maybe in the future, it can be again, but not right now. Not anymore. The shitty feeling also comes from the fact that she didn’t give anyone any warning. It’s just going to be sprung onto everyone out of the blue, and it wrecks her. She’ll have to tell Raven she won’t be her roommate anymore, tell Octavia she won’t be around to get stupidly drunk with, tell Murphy she can’t try his new apple pie recipe he’s been trying to perfect for the last month and a half, tell Monty and Jasper she can’t go over because a five hour drive is much too far, tell Bellamy…what would she tell Bellamy?

They’ve been in this limbo in each other’s life for a while now. Her leaving wouldn’t make a difference. They’ll continue not talking and continue not seeing each other. It’s just now there wouldn’t be a made-up excuse, besides the 300 miles that would separate them. The water washes down her body taking the night away with it, if only it could take the feelings that the night brought then everything would be fine and leaving wouldn’t be the best solution.

After she was out of the shower and dressed, she drags her feet across the carpet over to the kitchen where Raven is already sitting in one of the stools with a cup a coffee and one waiting for Clarke.

“Rae, I need to tell you something.” Clarke wrung her hands together before she settled into an empty stool.

Raven held her mug to her lips and blew. “Sounds serious.” Clarke ran her fingers through her damp hair and exhaled. “Okay, seriously what is it?”

“My mom offered to pull strings and have me transferred to Polis to finish my residency a couple of weeks back. I just…I was doing so much better, Rae. So much. I stopped taking my antidepressants. I started feeling like me again, and, and seeing Bellamy yesterday undid all this progress I made, and I feel weak because of it.”

“You’re leaving Arkadia, aren’t you?”

“Please, don’t be mad.” Clarke heard the vulnerability in her voice. She hadn’t let herself be vulnerable with anybody since Bellamy, excluding Dr. Nyko. She was a mess during those first few sessions. “I can’t, I can’t be here. I’ll still help with rent until we figure something out. I just can’t be here.”

“I’m not mad.” Clarke doesn’t look at her. She stares at her black coffee and held back her tears. “I mean it, Clarke. I’m not. I understand. After listening to what you told me and then seeing you fall apart on the way home, I was worried. I am worried. I don’t like that you’re leaving, but it’s a good thing.”

Clarke reached for Raven and pulled her into her arms. “Thank you.” She held Raven tighter. “Thank you.”

“I just want you to be okay.”

They let go of each other, and Clarke took a sip of her a still too hot coffee but ignores the burning.

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That’s soon,” Raven said, and Clarke agreed. “So, today is our last full day together. I’m guessing you’re telling everybody over breakfast.”

“I have to.”

Raven hummed in agreement. She sipped her coffee and cleared her throat, “Bellamy’s coming with everyone.”

“I assumed he would.” Raven squeezed Clarke’s arm, and Clarke pursed her lips together. “I’ll be okay. I’m not right now though, and that’s why I need to leave.”

* * *

  
Throughout breakfast, Clarke said as little as possible and blamed it on the hangover. She couldn’t bring herself to tell everyone. They all seemed happy, and Jasper even made a comment of making this a regular Saturday morning hangover cure, and it about made Clarke want to throw up. There was no way she could tell them she was leaving, so she didn’t. Plus, Bellamy was here—who participated in the conversation just as much as Clarke but never at the same time. They both did great at avoiding eye contact. When Bellamy arrived, Clarke conveniently had to take the trash out and gave him a small wave when she came back and sitting two places away from him did nothing to calm her. She wasn’t nervous around Bellamy or sad, and that’s what was worrisome. She felt empty after seeing him with someone else. After the ache went away, a pit of hollowness took its place. It felt too familiar in an unsettling way. Bellamy was always going to be special, and one day being around him wouldn’t be something she’d have to prepare for. But until then, until she could walk into a room and not be thrown by his presence, time spent around him needed to be limited. Maybe they can actually be friends again once she was better instead of needing to be friendly because they shared the same friends.

Raven had moved everyone to the living room and kept nodding towards Clarke to say something, and that is the exact reason Clarke hid in the kitchen and was washing dishes extra slow to buy her more time to put off the inevitable.

“Do you need any help?”

The voice made her freeze. Almost two hours in the same room, and she managed not to speak with Bellamy, but she should have known he would offer to help. It’s another thing that is part of who he is.

“N—” she cleared her throat, “no. It’s okay.”

“I don’t mind.” He grabbed the dishrag and started drying. “It wasn’t a problem that I came, right?”

Clarke hated that he had to ask that, hated he felt unwelcome in her apartment—around her. He once found solace in her and told her she was the one person he felt like he can actually breathe around. Now, he can barely look at her.

“Not at all. It’s actually good that you’re here,” she said absent mindlessly.

“Yeah?” She didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. It was hopeful and shy, and she was going to crush it all. Because how was she’s supposed to tell him the only reason why it was good was so he could hear the news from her rather than their friends, that it was good because it was convenient. As horrible as it sounded, she rather him not be here at all so she could enjoy her last day around the rest of them, but she’d feel worse later after it dawned on her that she wouldn’t be saying goodbye to him.

“Yeah, I actually have news to—”

“Clarke!” Octavia's voice cut her off. “What the fuck?” She barged into the kitchen. “You’re leaving?!”

“I’m so sorry!” Raven followed close behind. “It slipped out.”

Clarke gripped the edges of the sink, and her head slumped over. It wasn’t meant to come out like this. She wanted to ease into it and make promises of returning at least once a month, especially to Octavia and Raven. She didn’t want any of them to feel like she was abandoning them. But now, Octavia’s eyes were burning a hole in the back of her head. She chanced a glance at Bellamy, and he has completely stilled. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She chanted over and over again in her head. She rinsed her hands and turned off the faucet and prepares herself to get yelled at by one of her best friends. She can handle it. It might be the last time it happens in person for a while.

“It’s okay, Rae. And, yeah, I’m leaving.” She only looked at Octavia. “Tomorrow, actually.”

“What the hell?! Were you not going to tell us? Tell me?! I thought we were best friends! I thought we told each other everything! Were you going to call from Polis and tell me that’s where you live now! I can’t believe you, Clarke!”

“Hey! Back the fuck off!” Raven stepped in front of Octavia, blocking Clarke from her wrath. “You’re the one who doesn’t know shit!”

Clarke placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder and shook her head. “This is my mess.”

“No! You’ve been through enough.”

“It’s okay.”

Clarke stepped around Raven. She felt the warmth of Bellamy’s body as she sidestepped in front of him. He’s been quiet, but Clarke hasn’t forgotten he was there. She just can’t bring herself to look at him, not yet.

“Tell me, Clarke, was this your decision? Or did Momma Griffin convince you? When are you going to stop letting her control your life?” Octavia spat out, and Clarke couldn’t blame her for thinking that. It’s how she painted her mom in her friends’ eyes—the lady that called all the shots in her life. But it was her mom who was there when she was falling apart, and it was her mom who saved her life.

“It was mine, O. I was the one who asked my mom to get me transferred to Polis.”

“Why? Why would you choose to leave us? We’re your family. You can’t leave. I won’t let you!”

Clarke’s heart tightened at the aguish on Octavia’s face—her eyes were wet, her bottom lip quivered. Octavia looked like a little girl in front of her, and all Clarke could think about was Bellamy telling her all the times Octavia begged their mom to stay home. She didn’t want to be another person in Octavia’s life that disappointed her.

“Octavia.” The name was shaky on Clarke’s lips. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t!” She screamed.

Clarke heard the pain in her, and so did Bellamy. He stepped forward and tried to wrap his arms around him, but Octavia shoved him away.

“No! No, she doesn’t get to leave,” she told Bellamy. “She was gone for a month when she broke your heart, and then came back as if nothing happened. Like she didn’t shut everybody out and continues to do it. She can’t run away again. She doesn’t get to run away again. Not without telling me why the hell she’s leaving.”

She stocked over to Clarke. “Do you hear me? You don’t get to leave without a reason. This isn’t going to be like last time. You still won’t even tell me what happened! I just want you to talk to me!”

“I tried to kill myself!” Clarke sobbed, and Raven immediately wrapped Clarke into her arms.

“You what?” Bellamy narrowed his focus on Clarke.

Over Raven’s shoulder, Clarke saw everyone trickle into what now felt like a small kitchen with everyone huddled in and staring at her. She felt fragile under their stares because that’s how they were looking at her like any small movement was going to shatter her and any sound too loud was going to break her.

“I got you,” Raven said. It was something she’s been saying a lot since she found out the truth, and Clarke appreciated it. The thought of someone being there in case she fell made her loosen her armor a little.

“I have to tell them,” Clarke mumbled against Raven and felt Raven nod, so she pulled away and pulled her long sleeves over her hands to dry her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath, and Raven grabbed her hand.

“It happened about a year ago,” she started.

She avoided eye contact as she ran through the events, but she didn’t share as much as she did with Raven—she couldn’t say anything about her regrets regarding Bellamy when he standing in front of her and had a new girlfriend. She told them about forgetting Wells was dead, but not about why it affected her so much. She told them how at that moment she missed her dad and her best friend. She told them about her dad’s gun, and her mom finding her in time to stop her. When she finished, no one said anything. Like Raven, they were stunned. Jasper was on the brink of tears. Monty was trying to be calm but Clarke saw how rigid he'd become as she went on. Miller watched Bellamy. Murphy kept shaking his head and watching her. Octavia had let her tears run freely. Raven kept squeezing her hand. And she had made sure to avoid paying any attention to Bellamy.

She just wanted someone to say something, but when the silence went on and the staring kept lingering all Clarke wanted to do was get far away. The attention on her was too much, so she walked to her bedroom.

“Dude, give her space.” She heard someone say, and that’s all she needed to hear to know that Bellamy was following her.

“Close the door,” Clarke said and waited to hear the click of the door before turning around—she wished she hadn’t. Bellamy’s eyes were blurred with tears, and his cheeks had wet trails. She’d seen him broken a handful of times, and each time he let her hold him. This time was different because this time she was the one who made him look so…so ruined and crippled with pain.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” He sounded defeated.

“I couldn’t.”

He ran his hand down his face and mumbled something under his breath, and Clarke lowered herself on the foot of her bed. She rubbed her palms against her leggings and tried to ignore the stinging in her eyes.

“Just say what you need to say.”

She heard his deep breath before he started speaking. “I think that's bullshit. We always talk. Ever since Octavia brought you into my life, and I got over thinking you were a pretentious princess and you stopped thinking I was only an asshole. So, what’s the real reason you couldn’t talk to me?”

“I couldn’t bring you down with me,” she said quietly and began to weep. Bellamy didn’t hesitate to rush over to her side, but he didn’t touch her. “I was a wreck, Bellamy. I, I—” she was cut off by her sobs, and this time he didn’t think when he bundled Clarke into his arms.

She gripped onto his shirt and buried her face into his chest. Being in Bellamy’s arms felt like she was coming home from on a long vacation, but she couldn’t stay for long. She had to leave and heal properly. When she was away for that month she put a band-aid on something that needed stitches. An easy and fast fix was always the solution for Clarke, but she realized her mistake. She thought she was healed.

“I have to leave.”

“I know.” She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. “I know,” he repeated.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” She loosened her hold but didn’t let go. She pulled away enough to look at his face. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry about anything.”

For a minute, they stayed locked in the moment—not daring to let go or look away. It was something that felt intimate, but Clarke pushed that thought away. Yes, Bellamy had a girlfriend but this was him comforting a friend. That is the only thing this could mean, that is all Clarke allowed herself to think that this was. Clarke wouldn’t let it mean anything more.

His phone started to ring, and he made no attempt to reach for it. However, it took Clarke out of whatever temporary bubble that divided them from everything else in the world. He had a girlfriend. The same one that was probably calling him right now.

“You should get that.” Her arms dropped from his forearms but still, he made no reach for his phone that was still ringing. “Really, it’s okay.”

When Bellamy made no move to stand up, Clarke did. Being alone with him was starting to feel dangerous in the way that Clarke wanted to ask Bellamy not to leave her and to help her because with him she always felt safe. Bellamy was her haven, but she needed that haven to be herself. Bellamy slowly followed suit and stood in front of Clarke, and his phone had silenced by now.

“So, I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and Clarke thought he’d pull out his phone, but his hands stayed still. 

“I don’t know when that’ll be. I just, I need space from…everything.” Clarke watched the realization wash over his face. His subtle step back, his shy smile slipping away and his jaw clenching.

“Yeah, of, of course.” He took another step away from Clarke and towards her bedroom door, but he had yet to look away from her. “I guess this is goodbye.” She nodded. “Goodbye, Clarke.”

“Goodbye, Bellamy.” She watched him retreat from her room, and she had to hold herself together—at least until she was alone tonight.

It was only a minute after Bellamy had left that Murphy was now standing in her doorway. Clarke couldn’t read his expression because he had never looked at her the way he was looking at her now. He took four large strides to Clarke and folded his arms around her.

“Just shut up, okay, and let me have this moment,” he said, and when he finally let her go, he said, “Clarke, you have to know that you have people who care about you. I care about you. You can’t do that again. Next to Bellamy and Miller, you’re one of my best friends.”

“Well, as one of your best friends, can I ask a favor?”

“It’s about Bellamy, huh?”

She nodded. “Watch out for him.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on him. But, right now, I’m worried about you. Are you going to be okay?”

Clarke smiled a close-lipped smile. “I’ll be okay.” It was the first lie she told this entire time because she had no idea if she was going to be okay, but she had to believe she would be.


	2. There's Always Light at the End of the Tunnel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I took forever to update. Midterms and essays came in all at once, and it was impossible to find time to write. But here's the final part. It started because I couldn't get the idea of a Bellarke fanfic based off the Break Up in a Small Town song by Sam Hunt, but somewhere along the way it took a different turn. I hope you all enjoy it because I enjoyed writing it!

** _ Month One _ **

The night Clarke made it to the house she grew up in she broke down in her mom’s arms, and she couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. She cried because she left Arkadia. It was a place she made a home for herself. It’s the place she and Raven followed Octavia to. It’s the place all her friends that aren’t even friends because they're her family are. She left her family. She left Bellamy, but it was something she didn’t let herself dwell on too much because she didn’t have it in her to cry to the point of not breathing. He was part of the reason he had to leave—well his relationship was. She wasn’t strong enough to deal with it, and she knows how it makes her look. It’s pathetic for her happiness to lie within someone else, but it wasn’t just anyone. This was Bellamy. Bellamy with the bright brown eyes that put Clarke in a daze, but she couldn’t think about Bellamy without thinking about Echo. And right now, Clarke didn’t have the strength to keep pretending everything was okay because her feelings for Bellamy were only part of the reason Clarke was broken.

Coming home to Polis meant coming home once again to no Wells. The first time she came back after his death she had forgotten he was gone, and it spiraled out of control from there. Her mind made a web to her dad being gone, and it went to a shit show from there. Dealing with feelings was never something Clarke liked to do. When her dad passed away, she wanted to talk. She tried to. It was meant to be part of the mourning period. She wanted to cry and share memories of him, but her mom didn’t. Clarke had just started college, and her mom thought the best way to move on was to keep busy, so Clarke did instead of really processing that her dad was gone. She knew she’d never see him again, but she never thought of the magnitude of what that meant. She didn’t have time to think because her classes kept her busy.

She tried to do the same with Wells. It was unhealthy, and it would only lead her down a road with uneven gravel. But it worked once before with her dad, so she was convinced it was going to work again because it had to. There wasn’t a plan B if it didn’t. It might have worked if Bellamy hadn’t tried to tell her it was okay to fall apart, and it was okay to miss Wells. She knew all of this, but it wasn’t how she was taught to deal with her grief. She was taught to work through it, and if she worked hard enough, she was too tired at the end of the day to feel anything but exhaustion. When Wells died, something in her went out. She’s never been able to explain it other than it was being like the last bit of a candle’s wick that still cast a flame, but you knew any minute, any second, it was going to go out. That’s what it felt like. Clarke had been going with so little life inside of her that anything would have sent her into her being a shell of herself. It just happened to be connected to Wells.

But if it wasn’t Wells, it was going to be something else. Her being consumed by the eerie darkness was evitable. So, that Sunday night she cried for hours as her mom held her. She cried for her home in Arkadia, her family she left behind, for Bellamy (even though she wouldn’t admit it), for her dad, for Wells, and for herself. She cried until the soothing touch from her mom rubbing her back lulled her to sleep.

Clarke cried most nights her first month back in Polis. She made it through her days at the hospital and relished in her night shifts. It was in the waking hours of the moon that Clarke’s insides matched the dark sky, so working during those hours worked best for her. She was doing what she always did to ignore her feelings. It was in no way a good way to cope, but Clarke was a person of habit. So, for the next month, it was the hospital, cry, check-in with almost everyone back in Arkadia, and repeat.

** _ Month Two _ **

When the second month hit, Clarke knew she needed to change something, but she wasn’t sure what. She had met new people at the hospital that seemed friendly. There was Harper the head nurse. She had a welcoming smile, and whenever Harper smiled at her from behind the nurses’ station Clarke felt her day brighten just a little bit. Then there was Maya. She’s also doing her residency with Clarke. She’s sweet and caring, and Clarke admires the way she can connect with the patients. Clarke hasn’t allowed herself to get too close to people, and she knows it’s for two main reasons.

The first reason because she doesn’t want to grow roots in a place that is only meant to be temporary. Because being back in Polis is only temporary. Clarke always planned to return to Arkadia. She just doesn’t know when, but she knows it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. She went back once because she thought she was ready, and for a moment, maybe she was. However, everything seemed to fall apart in the matter of a day. A damn day and she felt like someone was turning the light knob and taking all the light away. Until she got better control over that knob, she was staying in Polis.

The other reason was she didn’t want anyone back home to feel like she was replacing them. Because there wasn’t a single soul that could replace Raven’s know it all attitude that infuriates Clarke at times. Or Octavia’s ability to love with her whole heart. It’s too much and overbearing sometimes for Clarke, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world. There’s also Monty and Jasper, and the way they could make her laugh until her sides are sore and make any time party time. And Murphy, her most surprising connection. He’s an ass, but the moment Clarke gained his loyalty she knew she’d always have him in her corner. There’s even Miller and his devotion to his friends. And she could never replace Bellamy. No one could ever replace him in her life. If Octavia loved with her entire heart, then Bellamy loved with his entire soul.

She didn’t want to attach herself to anyone if it meant attaching herself to Polis, but Clarke spending as much time as she was alone wasn’t doing her any good. So, when Harper asked Clarke if she wanted to come along to the bar one night, Clarke couldn’t think of a reason to say no—or maybe she could but the loneliness told her to go.

So, that’s how Clarke found herself walking into TriKru bar and making a direct beeline to bar. She made sure to arrive early to have a drink or two to unwind her nerves. There shouldn’t be a reason to be nervous she worked with these people, but the interactions never ventured out of the hospital. The conversations never went passed weekend plans. It was always about mundane things, but she had a feeling it was all going to change.

Clarke sat at the bar top and waited for the bartender. She looked around and took in her surroundings. It reminded her of the bar back in Arkadia. It was small. There was a jukebox near the back, booths that lined the walls and tables with chairs that filled the rest of the place. What caught Clarke’s attention was the amount of artwork that covered the walls. The one hanging close to her looked like a red storm happening. There were reds and blacks mixed together creating clouds, and the void space wasn’t quite white but wasn’t filled with the dark colors yet, but it still left the space tainted. It felt like it was only a matter of time before the storm took over.

“What can I get for you?” A voice pulled her attention away from painting.

Clarke’s focused in on the bartender in front of her. He looked intimidating. His head his shaved. He had bold black tattoos that cover his biceps she assumed as they peeked out from his shirt sleeves. She cleared her throat. “Can I get jack and coke?” He nods and steps away to make the drink, and Clarke stares at the painting again.

She can’t bring herself to look away. It makes her anxious because it’s how she feels. This gloominess lingers in all corners waiting to take over.

“What do you think of it?” Again, the voice brings her to.

Clarke turned her head in time to see the bartender place the glass in front of her.

“I think whoever painted it had a lot of demons they were dealing with.” She took a sip of her drink. “It’s daunting, but it’s beautiful.”

“You must be dealing with some of your own if you can see that.”

Clarke looked at the painting again and zeros in on the signature on the bottom right corner. She held up her glass. “Here’s hoping L. Woods got passed theirs. I’m still working on mine,” she said and took a drink.

The bartender smiled. “I’m still pushing through.”

Clarke cocked her head. “You’re—”

“L. Woods. Well, Lincoln Woods,” he finished for her and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She took his hand. “Clarke.”

“You know a thing or two about art. Are you an artist?”

“If you would have asked me while I was in high school, I would have said yes. I haven’t done much painting lately.”

“Why not?”

“If you want that story, I need another drink and stronger.” Lincoln doesn’t say a single word as he makes her a new one, and Clarke finishes the rest of the one currently in her hand.

“So, the story.” She takes a drink from the new glass, and it tastes purely of Jack Daniels with a hint of coke.

“I’m a mess.” She dropped her head and swirled around her drink. “I lost my dad and pushed my grief to the back. Then my best friend died, and I did the same thing. Oh,” she looked at Lincoln, “and when my boyfriend tried getting me to deal with it, I broke up with him.” She thought about telling him what she did after that, but she couldn’t outright say that in the middle of the bar. And why would she want to tell a stranger? What is it about bartenders that made you want to share your life story? Or was it because Clarke hadn’t done much talking with anyone besides the phone calls back home with her friends, or her once a week video session with Dr. Nyko, or with her mom when they saw each other in between shifts.

So, she alluded to it. “I just didn’t want to be around anymore.” She took a large gulp. “I tried to move on without fully dealing with my issues, and that was another mistake. So, I left and came back here to try to work through everything. Like I said, I’m a mess.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Clarke exhaled loudly. “I guess.”

“Painting kept me going when I was in a dark place. You aren’t an artist now, but you considered yourself one once. Maybe it’ll help you.”

Before Clarke could respond, someone shouted her name. She sees Harper wearing her bright smile and moving towards her.

“You’re part of the hospital gang?”

“She sure is,” Harper answered for her and draped an arm across Clarke’s shoulders.

Clarke smiled at the prospect of being part of something again. This was possibly a group of friends she could find comfort in while she was away from her family.

** _ Month Three _ **

Days passed with a blur. Clarke picked up more hours at the hospital. Her mom pushed her to apply for the residency internship Polis Medical offered, but Clarke had no interest. The more hours she spent at the hospital the more she realized something was missing. However, the past month did bring new friends in her life that she wasn’t sure she would have met if it wasn’t for the hospital.

In the past month, she joined “the hospital gang” at Trikru whenever she was asked. She chatted with Lincoln about art, and he’d occasionally ask her if she started painting yet. He always added the yet like he knew it’s only a matter of time before she started. She liked talking to Lincoln. He always offered a different perspective on, well everything. And his calming manner was nice to be around. It’s one of the reasons Clarke liked to be around him, and the fact she could be around him and he didn’t question her silence.

Then there’s Harper who has wiggled her way into Clarke’s life, and someone Clarke had grown close to. She learned the only reason Harper became a nurse was because during the time her dad was sick, they were spending a lot of time in the hospital and it was the nurses that kept checking in with the family and making sure they were as comfortable as someone could be in a hospital. It was the nurses that looked after her dad while she and her mom couldn’t be there. It was the nurses that offered support and some relief to her and her mom, and she wanted to be that person to another family who needed it. Clarke also learned that Harper was someone she could count on. There had already been a few times when Clarke walked into the hospital on the verge of tears for reasons she couldn’t explain to anyone, herself included, and Harper didn’t question anything only made sure that Clarke was okay as she held her.

She was thankful for Harper and Lincoln, and sometimes Clarke couldn’t help but think how they would merge perfectly with everyone back in Arkadia. She wanted to go back, but something was still broken in her that wasn’t allowing her to cope with whatever it is she needed to deal with. And until then, Polis was her home as much as she hated it.

* * *

It was one day while Clarke was walking in downtown Polis that he sees an art class taking place. She sees rows of teenagers with easels in front of them and stops for a moment to watch. A lady is in the front of the room giving instructions, but Clarke can’t hear through the glass. She thinks back to the first time she tried painting. She was six and in her dad’s study. Whenever he had free time, Clarke can remember her dad creating art. He was working on something, but for the life of her, she can’t remember what it was he was painting.

_“Do you want to paint with me?” her dad asked her._

_Clarke looked up from her book to see her dad smiling at her. “I don’t know what to paint.”_

_He laughed. “I never know what I’m going to paint.” He set up another easel and placed a blank canvas on it. “Come here, kiddo.”_

_Clarke walked to her dad and he crouch over to her level. “What do I paint?” She looked at the easel then to her dad._

_“Paint whatever you feel.”_

_Her dad stood up and moved to stand in front of his canvas, and Clarke stared at hers. Her dad told her to paint what she feels, and the only thing she feels at the moment is happiness. She finally gets to paint with her favorite person in the whole world, no longer having to sit and watch. She looked at her dad and knew exactly what she was going to paint. Clarke dipped the tip of the paintbrush in the thick paint and touched it to her canvas. Paint what makes me happy she chanted in her head again and again._

_It wasn’t long before she heard her dad say, “Wow, you could be an artist.” Clarke didn’t believe him. He’s her dad, and he has always told her she had the potential to be anything. This wasn’t any different._

_She giggled. “Mom says I’m going to be a doctor.”_

_“Yeah, maybe. But, look at this.” He gestured to the canvas, and Clarke’s eyes followed._

_She sees a mixture of colors. She wasn’t even sure what she was painting when she started. Clarke was just happy to be in here and painting with her dad. There were swirls of orange that was connected to thick brown lines. There were more swirls in the background that were green. To Clarke, they sort of looked like bushes. The background was a streaky blue. She wasn't sure what it was supposed to be. _

_“If you ever change your mind, I think I’m looking at a future artist. Why don’t you sign your name right there,” he pointed to the bottom right, “and I’ll hang it up in here. The first Clarke Griffin piece.”_

As far as Clarke was concerned, the painting never left the wall of her dad’s study. But she doesn’t remember seeing it there the day everything fell apart. Clarke wanted to go home and check. Her mom refused to go in there because she didn’t want to touch anything and neither did Clarke. It seemed like she and her mom were both afraid to disrupt anything in the office in fear that it would erase her dad. However, Clarke needed to know, but before going home, Clarke decided to stop at a craft store to pick up art supplies. She’s not sure what paint to get, not sure what her hands remember, but they have to remember something. So, she gets a little of everything. She gets canvases, watercolor and acrylic paint because she can’t remember which one she liked more. She gets a sketchbook and color pencils. She feels excited and happy.

When she gets home, she wanted to go straight up to her dad’s office, but she wasn’t sure she could. She hadn’t been in there since her mom found her with the gun. She knows her mom keeps it locked now because she told Clarke so the first week she was back. Clarke understood. When she first came back, the room would have been too much to be around. But now, Dr. Nyko said she seems to be doing better, and she feels like she’s doing better. Maybe this is the first step to dealing with everything she’s locked away in the far corner in the back of her mind. It feels like something she needs to do, so she musters up whatever courage she can and stalks up the stairs with her art supplies in hand. She searches her mom’s office for the key and hesitates for a second at the locked door.

Clarke takes a deep breath before she pushes the door open and walks over the threshold. She immediately sees her dad’s desk—the same place she sat when she held the gun to her temple. She waits for the same feeling of dread to suffocate her, waits to remember the feeling of the cold barrel of the gun pressed to her skin, but it never comes. Instead, for the first time in a long time, she feels her dad around her. A smile tugs on her lips and her eyes burn with tears. Her dad is around her somehow. She drops the bags at the door and walks around and sees pictures of her mom, some just of her, and the three of them together. She sees his engineering degrees. She sees bits and pieces of him everywhere. His bookshelf is filled with books. She sees his old college textbooks that she would see him reading to “keep his mind sharp”, but what really gets Clarke’s attention is _The Odyssey. _It was one of her dad’s favorites, and it’s one of the reasons Clarke would ask Bellamy to read it to her on days that weren’t particularly good. Clarke shakes the thought away and turns her head and right there near the door she sees her very first painting still hanging.

Clarke has never questioned the amount her dad loved her because he showed her every day he was alive, and the painting she created when she was six years old and still hanging in his office is one of the many ways he showed her. She starts to rifle through the bags and begins to pull out paints and a canvas. For the first time, in a long time, she loses herself in something she once loved. Something she hopes to love again. 

** _ Month Four _ **

Clarke paces outside her mom’s home office. Her heart thumping against her ribcage, and her palms stay clammy no matter how many times she wipes them against her jeans. Clarke had a choice between telling her mom now or her finding out tomorrow from someone who wasn’t her, and in either scenario, her mom ends up in a fury rage. But one made her angrier than the other, so Clarke sucks in a deep breath and knocks before she turns the doorknob and peeks her head in.

“Can I talk to you?” Clarke heard her own voice crack and slightly winced at the sound. This was one time she needed to be strong.

“Of course. Come in.” Clarke watches as her mom closes her laptop.

Clarke continued her pacing but this time it was in front of her mom’s desk, and she knew her mom’s eyes were following her every move. She had this whole speech worked out in her head, but being under her mom’s gaze, her mind couldn’t form sentences. She’s twenty-seven, and she has no real plan. All she has is the first step, and this was it. She can’t turn back now.

“Mom, I’m quitting,” she blurted out and stopped mid-step. She turned to look at her mom in time to see her shaking her head. “I don’t want to be a doctor anymore.”

And before her mom could say anything else, Clarke kept speaking.

“I’m not happy. Please understand that. I’ve been painting, and it makes me feel like me again. I don’t have a plan, and I know it’s reckless. You’ve always been the rational one, and I have been too because that’s what you taught me. But I want to be happy and leaving the hospital is the right move. I know it, mom. I can feel it.”

Clarke stopped talking and studies her mom, but all her mom was doing was staring at her. So, Clarke continued. “I want to go back to school and major in art. I want to take a chance. I have money saved, and I still have the money dad left me. I need…I need to know that you’ll support me.” Clarke's voice quivered. Tears were on the brink of forming, but she wasn’t going to let herself cry. No matter what her mom said it wasn’t going to change her mind.

Being at the hospital most days out of the week was starting to drain her. It wasn’t where she wanted to spend her time. It only took a week of painting during her free time that Clarke knew she wanted to spend her time doing exactly that. She wants to be an artist. She wanted people to look at something she created and have it evoke something within them. She wants to be happy.

Her mom doesn’t say anything, and the silence scares her. She expected her mom to yell at her and tell her she’s making a big mistake, that she’s throwing her life away. She waits for the wrath, but it never comes. Instead, her mom pushes herself away from her desk and walks over to Clarke and takes her face between her hands.

“Is this what you really want?”

Clarke nodded.

“Then I support you.” The words barely leave her mom’s lips before Clarke is wrapped in her arms.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve been happier and painting again. It was easy to connect the two. That’s all I want is for you to be happy.” Clarke squeezed her mom tighter.

* * *

A few days later Clarke called Raven over video chat. It’s been months since she’s left, but both Raven and Octavia manage to check in with her at least once a day. It’s especially reassuring to her that Octavia isn’t mad with her for leaving. When she left, they still hadn’t talked everything through. Although, Clarke didn’t need to. Clarke knew where Octavia was coming from. People had left her whole life, and in Octavia’s eyes, without knowing the whole story, Clarke was one of those people—to up and leave without warning because it’s what she did. But all she needed to do was assure Octavia she’ll always be around, no matter the distance.

“Hey Rae,” Clarke said as soon as Raven’s face came into view. “Where’s Octavia? I was hoping I’d get the both of you together.”

“She went out with…she went out to dinner.”

Raven didn’t need to say who Octavia went out to dinner with. Clarke knew by the way Raven stumbled. Bellamy was still the topic everyone tiptoed around with her because everyone assumed he was part of the reason she had left even though none of them actually asked. They wouldn’t be wrong.

“You know you don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Avoid saying Bellamy’s name. I’m not going to break at the mention of him. I’m doing better.” Raven didn’t seem convinced. Clarke saw a knowing glint in Raven’s eyes. “I promise. I’m back on my anti-depressants. I’ve realized just because I’m taking them doesn’t mean I’m broken. I just have days where it’s hard. But I’ve been dealing with some of my repressed feelings.”

Raven smiled. “Well, I will say that you do seem happier. I don’t know you seem lighter.”

“Yeah. That might have to actually do with the fact that I started painting, and I also quit at the hospital.”

Raven’s jaw slacked opened, and her eyes widened. “You what?”

“I quit, and surprisingly my mom was okay with it. Supportive even.” Clarke wrung her hands together. “I’m actually looking into schools. Rae, I want to be an artist. I should have never given up on my dream. I may totally fail, but I want to try.”

Raven smiled. “It’s nice to see the life back in you, Clarke.”

Clarke’s eyes brimmed with tears because it felt nice to have the life put back in her. It was something she was missing for so long that she hadn’t realized anything was wrong because she had grown accustomed to the emptiness in her. It was nice to have a little piece of herself back.

** _ Month Five _ **

Clarke sat in front of her laptop the way she did every Wednesday afternoon. It was her schedule meeting with Dr. Nyko. Clarke remembers a time when she was reluctant to even see a psychiatrist. She didn’t see the point in talking to a stranger when she wouldn’t even tell the most important people in her life her inner thoughts, and they were people she told everything to. But with some convincing, Clarke had found her sessions something she looked forward to.

“So, Clarke how are you feeling today?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been better. It’s just one of those days. I’m missing home. I’m missing my dad and Wells.” She looked down at her hands. They were still cover in paint from earlier—blue and purple acrylic paint stuck under her nails. “I’ve been spending more time in my dad’s study.”

“And, how is that going?”

Her eyes met Dr. Nyko’s. “Good. I feel closer to him. More than I have in years. I know he’s gone, but when I’m in there, with everything practically the same, it feels like he isn’t actually gone. Mom even sometimes goes in there while I’m painting, and we share stories about him.”

Dr. Nyko smiled. “And that’s all you ever wanted from her.”

Clarke nodded. “Yeah. We cried together for dad in a way we never did when he passed away. He’s been dead for seven years, but it feels like we’re mourning him now, together.”

Clarke shook her head because it’s the one thing she’s been thinking about since she’s realized she’s been dealing with everything she’s repressed. There was her pain she felt after her dad passed that she’s now dealing with, and it felt good to have it out in the open. It felt like a relief to finally cry until she felt some of the pain ease. It felt comforting to cry with her mom as they held each other. Now, her only worried was when all the other feelings that she pushed down were going to float to the surface, and if she was going to be strong enough to deal with them. The pain from losing Wells, and the heartbreak she felt when ending the relationship with Bellamy. She would have to deal with them, but she wasn’t sure when that was going to happen—if she had a say in it or if something was going to trigger them. She had even thought about going to Wells’ grave. It happened after her mom told her sometimes she went to her dad’s and spoke to him. There were days that all Clarke wanted to do was talk to Wells and tell him she’s finally doing something for herself.

“I’ve thought about visiting Wells.” The words slipped out. “I want to. I need to, but I don’t know if I’m ready. Am I ready?” Her eyes roamed over Dr. Nyko’s face in a desperate attempt to find an answer. “I want to be ready.”

“I can’t tell you if you are ready because that is something you need to decide for yourself, but you know what I can tell you, Clarke?”

“What?”

“I can tell you I’ve seen changes that are significant. Especially from our first session over a year ago. For one, you were honest when I asked how you were. Feelings aren’t something you pull away from anymore. And let’s not forget you’re painting again. Do you remember after a month of our sessions and I suggested you paint? You yelled at me and told me I didn’t understand and stormed out of the room. Clarke, you’ve always been strong. You might not have seen it within yourself, but I did.”

Clarke exhaled. “So, you think I can handle going to see Wells?”

“I think if you choose to, you’ll be able to.”

Clarke wasn’t sure whether she was going to go, but she believed Dr. Nyko when he said she could do it.

* * *

Clarke pondered over her conversation with Dr. Nyko for the last two days. She wanted to go visit Wells. She never felt like she properly said goodbye to him because it felt too permanent. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she’d never talk to him again or see his bright smile that was always enough to make her smile to. He was gone, she knew that, and it hurt her to know that. But her mom had told her not too long ago, while the two of them were crying over her dad, that just because someone is gone doesn’t mean we can’t talk to them anymore. We might not hear them, but if we’re lucky we’ll feel them. And, Clarke thought back to the first time she went into her dad’s study after a year and started painting. She felt her dad around her. She wanted to feel Wells' presence again, and that’s what ultimately made her decide it was time to go to the cemetery.

She stopped and picked up his favorite flowers. They were blue irises. He liked them become they grew near his home and before his mom passed away, she’d always pick one or two placed them in a vase. As she got closer, she started to have second thoughts. Maybe she should have told her mom or someone where she was going because as she sits in her car trying to take deep breaths, she begins to think that maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Especially, when she finally parks and looks out her car window, she can see Wells’ gravestone. Thelonious said she wouldn’t be able to miss it. It’s tall and a shiny marble stone color. Leave it to Thelonious to pick something that Wells would totally hate because it was too much, too flashy, but it was something Wells deserved with his larger than life personality.

With one last deep breath, Clarke stepped out of her car. Her heart was still racing, and her palms were sweating as she gripped the irises. Why did she think she could do this? She wanted to, but the thought of talking to her best friend who was six feet under with his body decomposing was making her stomach turn.

“Deep breath, Clarke,” she whispered to herself. She felt it in her heart that she wanted to do this, but doing it alone was making her anxious. She didn’t want to be alone, not here, not for this. She knew she could call someone. Her mom was probably too busy at the hospital to answer. Harper was working too. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t want either one of them. The only person she wanted with her as she did this was hours away, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t still comfort her. Without thinking too much about it, because she didn’t want there to be a chance of her changing her mind, she dialed his number on her phone.

It rang once before someone picked up.

“Bell-Bellamy?” her voice cracked.

“Clarke? What’s wrong?”

His voice made something in her flutter and ache at the same time. She wanted him here with her, but he wasn’t free to have in the way she wanted.

“I’m at the cemetery. I, I came to see Wells. I should have listened to you,” her voice shook from the fresh tears that were beginning to build up in her eyes. “You always wanted me to deal with this, my grief, and I pushed you away. I was wrong, Bellamy.”

“It’s okay, Clarke,” he said.

Clarke shook her head vigorously. “No, it’s not! I’m alone dealing with this when I could have had you with me. I could have had you, Bellamy,” she sobbed. She didn’t mean for all of that to come out. She didn’t want him to beat himself up for not being with her now because she knew he would. But it’s her fault she’s alone. She pushed him away. She didn’t want to deal with the hole Wells left when he died. She was fine patching it the same way she did with her dad, but the patch was lifting, and everything was spewing out.

“Can I do this?” Clarke’s voice was quiet. She was afraid he hadn’t heard her.

“Clarke, you are capable of doing anything. I can stay on the phone with you. Would that help?”

“Please, don’t leave me.”

Clarke knew she sounded vulnerable, but she didn’t care. There were days that were hard, but Dr. Nyko said it was okay if she was aware it was only temporary. Today was a particularly hard day. She hadn’t been here since they buried Wells. So, when she knew she was going to do this, when she woke up, she knew it was going to be one of those difficult days to get through.

“Never.”

Clarke didn’t say anything. She gripped her phone in one hand and the other gripped the blue irises, and she cautiously took a step forward. She could do this. Bellamy wouldn’t let her do this alone, and that was enough for her. She had her mom with her dad, and she would have Bellamy dealing with Wells. The way it should have been from the beginning.

She reached Wells’ tombstone, and she stared at the engraving.

_Wells Jaha  
A Loving Son and Kind Friend  
October 17, 1991-March 23, 2018  
In peace, may you leave this shore.  
__in love, may you find the next._  
Safe passage on your travels until our final journey to the ground.  
May we meet again.

There was a picture of him in the center of the tombstone. It was the one Clarke suggested. It showed Wells’ friendly smile and the glimmer in his eyes. It showed him alive and happy because he was at one point. He’d light up a room when he walked in. People gravitated towards him. His dad always wanted him to run for mayor because Thelonious said Wells was charismatic, and even though politics wasn’t something Wells was ever really interested in, he was going to do it because it made his dad happy. Wells would have made a great mayor of Polis, and Polis would have been lucky to have him. He was always looking out for everyone because he cared for everyone.

She placed the flowers on top of the tombstone and lets her fingers touch the cold stone.

“Hi, Wells. I’m sorry it took me so long to come to you.”

She felt a gush of wind blow across her face, and a smile ghosted her lips. It felt cliché to say that it felt like Wells was waiting for her this entire time, but that is exactly what she felt. She felt him around her. If she closed her eyes and imagined herself somewhere else, she could swear Wells was standing behind her.

“Are you still there, Bellamy?”

“Yeah. I told you I’m not going anywhere.”

Clarke sighed and lowered herself to the ground and crossed her legs. She placed her phone on her lap on speaker.

“I guess we have a lot of catching up to do,” she said, but she wasn’t sure who she was talking to. Both, perhaps.

** Month Six **

It’s been half a year since Clarke has left Arkadia, and she has yet to return. She thought about visiting, but she was afraid if she did, she’d go back before she was ready. Some days she feels like she is, but some days she isn’t sure. She’s dealt with most of the things she stored away and feels she can breathe easier without everything weighing in on her. But she knows she hasn’t faced everything. There was Bellamy. She purposely left him for last. She wasn’t ready, not yet. However, the day she went to see Wells changed everything.

She and Bellamy have been speaking once every few days. Something shifted between them the day she called him at the cemetery, and she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. She knew there were things unsaid between them, mostly with the fact she had broken his heart and as a result, her own heart. She never really apologized to him. The conversation in her room the weekend she left was the first real talk they had in a year. A year’s time she had lost speaking to him, and even though they have been talking now, it’s been about surface level things, like how teaching has been for Bellamy and painting for Clarke (she never says what she’s painting), the latest antics Jasper and Monty have been up to, and Bellamy filling her in with everything else. They never talk about the past or the day at the cemetery and how Bellamy listened to her cry as she talked to Wells and talked her down when she felt like she couldn’t breathe while she wept. It’s almost like there is an unwritten rule that certain things needed to be talked about in person.

The day she called him he offered to come to Polis for her, and as much as she wanted to see him, it wasn’t time. Because although she was dealing with her pain of losing her dad and best friend, she wasn’t ready to have the inevitable conversation with Bellamy. He deserved it. She owed it to him, but not yet.

She sat in her dad’s study staring at the paintings she had been doing. It was like something in her unclogged, and she couldn’t stop creating one piece after another. Some were nothing too special—the big oak in front of the craft store she visited often, the building of Trikru, the rose bushes that she was able to see in the backyard from the office, the sunset or sunrise. The colors were always a little messy. But there were also the ones she cried as she painted and laughed a little to herself. Her dad’s blue eyes stared at her from the canvas. It had taken her a few times to mix the right shade of blue.

His portrait was in the black and white, except his eyes and the background. The background was a mixture of colors. An ocean green that looked like waves splashing onto his jawline. It was for all the times they spent at the beach together. A splash of purple that covered part of his ear. It was for the time she and her dad painted her room, and most of the painted ended on each other instead of the walls which resulted in her mom being angry. It was also one of her favorite moments. A washed-out orange that was blotched everywhere in squiggles and spikes. It was for his favorite time of year, where the color of trees began to change to his favorite color. She worked night and day on getting everything right. She still found things she could possibly fix if she chose to, but his eyes were perfect. They were filled with light from the grin she painted because it was the one he always wore.

There was also the one she painted of Wells with the same style, but instead of blue eyes, his were a chocolate brown. And instead of a grin, he had a cheeky smile. It was everything Wells. A mountain of forest green took up the majority of the background for so many reasons. It was for the hilltop in the park where they laid for hours of the day, sometimes after school, sometimes in the middle of the night, talking about everything, and it was the same green that he said was his favorite color. The same warm purple she used on her dad’s portrait covered part of Well’s chin because he was also there the day she painted her room. It was one of her favorite memories that they were both a part of. A powerful red that dotted the background that she couldn’t explain besides the simple fact that it felt like it belonged there. A soft mixture of pink and blue. It was for the god awful cotton candy flavor he loved in pretty much everything and swore by everything it was delicious, but in reality, it tasted way too sweet.

There was also an unfinished portrait. She knew who it was the second she started peppering brown-black freckles all over the face. She hadn’t made it to the eyes yet because she couldn’t have them staring at her. She had been working on it for the past two weeks, stopping and starting. She hadn’t even begun to think about what she’d do for the background. She didn’t want to. The background on both her dad’s and Wells’ portraits were things from the past because she didn’t have a future with them in her life. There was no way to make new memories. But with Bellamy, he was alive and breathing. Anything was possible, and that seemed to be a problem for her.

She’d like to paint swirls of gold for matching wedding bands, but he wasn’t hers. She’s like to add the same shade of purple from her dad’s and Wells’ portrait somewhere on Bellamy’s to show Clarke’s willingness to talk about them with him and let him be the rock he always wanted to be. There seemed to be so many possibilities she could paint, but she couldn’t do anything until she talked to him.

She had been lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard her mom call out for her, and she jumped when the door to the study had been thrown open.

“Why weren’t you answering me? I, I thought,” her mom stumbled over her words, and Clarke scrambled to her feet.

“I’m sorry.” Clarke took a tentative step forward. “I didn’t hear you calling. I’m fine.”

Her mom shook her head. “No, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thought the worse. It’s just the last time you were in here alone and didn’t respond—”

Clarke didn’t let her mom finish. She pulled her mom into her arms and held her tight. Clarke couldn’t count how many times she had apologized to her mom about everything, and sometimes, in moments like this, she hates herself for putting her mom through everything. No amount of sorrys were ever going to be enough.

Her mom gave her one last squeeze before she let go. “I just need to remember that you aren’t the same. Anyways, you have some people downstairs. I can send—”

She wasn’t able to finish the sentence because Clarke had caught the glimpse of dark hair behind her mom peeking in from the door.

“Octavia?” Clarke called out.

She waved with a sheepish grin. “I know you said to wait downstairs,” she spoke to Clarke’s mom. “But I was afraid you send us away because you weren’t ready to see any of us.” This time she was talking to Clarke.

Her mom stepped towards the door. “I’ll send the others up.”

“Actually, can you give up a few minutes before you do that?”

She nodded and walked out closing the door behind her. Octavia didn’t say anything for a minute as she looked around the room. Probably taking in the mess that Clarke surrounded herself with. Palettes of colors, cups of dirty paint water and brushes, rags covered in splatters of paint. It looked like a mess, but it felt comforting and relaxing to Clarke.

Clarke was about to say something, but Octavia stomps over to her and wraps her arms around her. “I’ve missed you. I know you wanted space, but I needed to see you.”

Clarke lets out a laugh, and she felt her eye mist over. “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I’ve been a little distant.”

“No,” Octavia pulled away. “Don’t apologize. I understand. I should be the one saying sorry again for the billionth time for being selfish.”

“You don’t have to. I forgave you the first time.”

“Still. I was being a brat. Bellamy told me so, and I didn’t even argue with him when he did.” Both girls laughed. “Speaking of Bellamy. I may or may not be here as a request from him too. Don’t get me wrong. This trip was very much going to happen with or without Bellamy asking me to come, but he did ask me to come see you.”

“How did you find me?” Clarke questioned. “I mean you knew where I was obviously but not where I live.”

“That’s the power of the internet. You were tagged in a couple of pictures with a location. I went to the bar and asked the bartender if he knew you. Which by the way, how could you not tell me you knew someone that damn good looking? Like, have you seen him? How have you not been all over that?”

Clarke scoffed.

“Right,” Octavia smirked. “My brother. Anyways, he said he was friends with you, and it didn’t take much arm twisting for him to show us where you lived.”

“Us?” Clarke swallowed. “Is Bellamy with you?”

“Oh no. He wanted to come. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea. I know you guys have been talking, but you also told me you were taking it slow. Which I don’t see why. He’s been single for like five months now. I thought you’d be confessing your love for him once you found out he wasn’t with Echo anymore.”

“They broke up?”

Octavia’s eyes widened like she said something she wasn’t supposed to. “Shit.” She said out loud, but mostly to herself. “Yeah. A couple of weeks after you left.”

Octavia was throwing new information at Clarke that her mind was having a hard time processing. Bellamy and Echo were no longer together, but he hadn’t mentioned anything to her. Bellamy had asked Octavia to come see her, but Clarke couldn’t understand why. She hadn’t shown any inclination that she was lonely even though she felt it. Of course, she had her new friends in Polis. Harper was friendly. Lincoln was great. And even the few friendly run-ins she had with Maya were nice. But it wasn’t the same as her friends back at home.

“He didn’t tell me,” Clarke whispered.

“He wanted you to focus on yourself and getting better. We all did, so we decided to keep it from you. I’m so sorry.”

Clarke shook her head. “No, I understand.”

Octavia tilted her head slightly but quickly blinked away any reservations she may have had. Clarke knew Octavia was probably expecting her to get angry for the secrecy, but everyone was right to keep the secret. If she had found out the truth, Clarke would have gone back home to Arkadia without working on all the underlining issues she had. Without dealing with all the pain she had. Secrets were sometimes good she guesses.

“Well, he asked me to come because he thought you needed a friend from home. Raven wanted to come, but she couldn’t get time off from work. I was going to make the trip alone, but—”

“I found out and tagged along,” a voice said from the doorway. Clarke looked over her shoulders to see Murphy, and she felt her lips pulling up. “Now, c’mon give me some love.” He opened his arms, and Clarke smiled as she stepped in between them.

“I hope it was okay that I brought them over,” Lincoln said stepping into the room.

“He only did because he wanted to spend more time with Octavia,” Murphy whispered to Clarke.

“Yeah, it’s more than okay. Thank you, Lincoln.”

He nodded, and Clarke watched as his eyes roamed around the room. She was nervous for him to see her work. She told him that she started painting, but she had been reluctant to show him anything. He was talented. His work was not only hanging in the bar, but he also had a few pieces hanging in the gallery downtown.

“Wow,” he said. “These are amazing, Clarke.” She saw that he was looking at the portraits. “If you’re serious about this,” he gestured to her work, “I’d say you made the right call about quitting.”

Clarke blushed from the compliment. It gave her a bit of a confidence boost hearing someone she respected as an artist admire her work. “Thank you.” Again, he nodded.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell Bellamy that you’re painting him,” Murphy whispered once again, and Clarke elbowed him. “Anyways, you’ve had your time with Clarke. It’s my turn. Why don’t the two of you go back to the bar, and we’ll meet you there in a bit? I won’t tell Bellamy, I promise,” Murphy teased, and Octavia scoffed.

“Please, he doesn’t control me. Now,” she turned her attention to Lincoln, “what do you say? You wanna have a drink with me?”

“I’d love to.”

Murphy closed the door behind them, and Clarke wasn’t sure what was going to happen. They talk practically every day. What could have happened from yesterday afternoon to now?

“Is there something I should be worried about?”

He took a deep breath. “We’ve been keeping a secret from you.” Her eyebrows raised. “Bellamy and Echo broke up.” Clarke started to laugh but quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “This isn’t funny, Clarke. We’ve been keeping this from you for months. I wanted to tell you, but yeah, okay everyone was right in wanting to keep it from you. But still. You told me to watch out for him, and I am. For me to do that job correctly, it meant telling you.”

“You’re just a few minutes too late. Octavia might have let it slip.”

Murphy rolled his eyes. “Of course, she did. Look, Clarke,” he stepped closer to her, “I came because, well, I want you to come back. We all do. It’s not the same without you. Bellamy struggles to rein in Jasper sometimes.” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s like he’s acting up because you aren’t around. Monty is always asking about you. Raven is trying to be okay, but I know she’s lonely in the apartment because she refuses to let anyone move into your room. Octavia is trying to act like it doesn’t bother her anymore, but we all know it does. Hell, even your absence is getting to Miller.” He threw his hands up. “And don’t even get me started on Bellamy. When you left, he didn’t shut down the way we all excepted he would. But he wasn’t the same. He only started being Bellamy again when you started talking to him last month.”

“And me, well I need you back. We’re cockroaches. You know how hard it is being the only cockroach in our group of friends. It’s fucking difficult.”

Clarke slowly dropped to the ground and folded her legs in front of her, and he followed suit. She knew her being gone would have some cause and effect on the group, but she never thought she’d have Murphy telling her to come back. She wanted to go back, and maybe it was time. Maybe she could face Bellamy. After all, he seemed to be the only thing keeping her from going back. Maybe she could face him and those piercing brown eyes.

“Fuck, Clarke. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She hadn’t realized she had started crying.

“That was fucking selfish of me. Fuck. I just, I wasn’t thinking. If you still need time, then take all the time you need. Ignore me and my big mouth. I talk too much. You tell me all the time.” That got a laugh out of her.

“It’s not that, Murphy. I do want to go back, but I’m not ready. If I go back, I’m going to have to talk to Bellamy, and I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m scared to move, right now.”

He draped an arm across her shoulders. “And, it’s okay. I’ll tell you he’s scared to move too. But I’ll also tell you that I know he’s waiting for you. I know I shouldn’t be telling you any of this because it’s a shit move, but you need to know. He’s crazy about you, Clarke. He’s always been crazy about you. Ever since he met you and he tried to interrogate you and you told him you didn’t have to tell him shit, he has been crazy about you. So, whatever it is about him that has you worried, you don’t need to be.” He squeezed her shoulder. “And, if you still need time, I’ll respect that. I’ll back off.”

Clarke dropped her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Murphy. For…for everything.”

That night while Octavia went home with Lincoln, and Murphy was passed out in her bed, Clarke snuck into her dad's study. She stood in front of Bellamy’s unfinished portrait and began mixing colors to get the perfect shade of brown. She was ready to look into his eyes. She wanted to look into his eyes. And after his eyes were done, she began to pour gold on the palette and tried to recreate the purple she painted her bedroom all those years ago. She felt hopeful.

** Month Seven **

After saying bye to her mom and made promises to visit more, she stopped at the bar to say a quick bye to Lincoln even though she had a pretty good feeling she was going to be seeing him soon. Her final stop was the hospital. She couldn’t leave Polis without a goodbye to Harper and Maya too if she was around.

“I guess this is it, huh? You’re leaving us,” Harper said as soon as she saw Clarke walking up to the nurses’ station.

“Yeah. It’s time for me to go home. You are always welcomed to come visit whenever. You’ll fit in great.”

“Me too?”

Clarke turned just in time to see Maya. “Of course. I know we didn’t get to talk as much, but you remind me of someone back home. I think the two of you would get along great.”

Clarke hugged both girls, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little sad to be leaving them behind, but it paled in comparison to how she felt when she left everyone back in Arkadia. Hell, even Octavia and Murphy leaving her three weeks ago was hard. She almost left with them, but it wasn’t time yet. She was still scared then. She’s still scared now, but it was time. She had been in limbo for the last couple of weeks. She needed to make a move, and it was to leave. The only thing she hadn’t told anyone she was coming back. She had packed up her car, leaving some things behind so she could fit her three portraits with her.

* * *

It was a little after nine when she made her way back to Arkadia. The lights were off in the apartment, and she knew it was too early for Raven to be asleep, so Clarke assumed she was out. Maybe meeting with everyone for a drink. It would make for a good surprise for when Raven came home. She could tell everyone tomorrow she was back and get some advice on how to handle the Bellamy situation too because it's something she needed to fix right away. It’s been long enough. So, Clarke started bringing in boxes from her car and leaving the portraits for last.

Two hours had passed, and Raven still wasn’t home. She thought about calling her, but Clarke really wanted to surprise her because she knew how much Raven secretly loved them. It’s the reason why Clarke always threw her a surprise birthday party every year and made sure it was never on a day Raven would suspect. Which was sometimes really fucking hard because Raven was really fucking smart. She was just about done unpacking everything from the boxes, however, putting everything in its original place was another story—she had a pile of clothes she needed to sort through, and her art supplies pushed away in another corner.

Clarke must have been too caught up in singing and dancing along to the music playing that she didn’t hear the front door open or someone calling out because the next thing she knew she heard someone yelling, “My friends are on their way, and they’ll beat your ass if they find you.”

She turned the music down and tried not to laugh. Did Raven really think someone was breaking into the apartment? Clarke wondered how Raven missed her car parked in the front. It still had the princess decal sticker on the bottom corner of the rear window. Bellamy had put it there as a joke, but Clarke never had it in her to take it off. And when Bellamy offered to do it for her, Clarke told him to leave it.

What Clarke could have done was mess with Raven a little, but she hadn’t seen her in months because her work schedule didn’t allow her to take a day trip to visit. So, Clarke rushed down the hall to the living room, but it was empty. Of course, it was empty. Raven wouldn’t be dumb enough to wait inside if she thought someone was in there with her. Clarke ran to the front door, and when she pulled it open, only fate would have it that she’d be met with a pair of brown eyes staring at her—the same ones that have haunted her dreams.

“Clarke?” His eyes were wide, his lips parted.

For a second, the two of them stared at one another—blue meeting brown. It felt like time stopped. Being so close to him, Clarke couldn’t help but feel like she was really home. It was the first time she understood that a home can be with a single person. Bellamy has been the only person, and Clarke is pretty sure will ever be the only person, to be able to make her feel these romantic clichés. The ones that are usually only seen in movies, the ones that she laughed at when she heard people around her saying they felt it, the ones that aren’t meant to be real but are. They’re real if it’s the right person.

“Clarke?” Someone repeated, and then screamed, “Clarke,” and rushed passed Bellamy, breaking the spell, and launching themselves in her arms.

Clarke took a moment to come back to reality before she laughed. “Hey, Rae. I hope it’s okay I’m back,” she said near Raven’s ear, but Clarke hadn’t looked away from Bellamy. And at her words, he smiled. It only made her feel like her heart was glowing.

“Are you kidding?” Raven pulled away to look at Clarke then pulled her back into her arms. “This is the best fucking surprise!”

“Well, what do you know? Clarke’s back.” Miller stepped around Bellamy, who was still blocking the doorway.

At the sound of his voice, Raven let go of Clarke only for her to wrapped into another hug. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.”

“Hey, Reyes,” Miller started. “What do you say you and I go grab a slice of pizza or something.”

Raven furrowed her eyebrows. “What? No, Clarke just got back. I want—” Clarke saw Miller’s eyes shift from Bellamy to her in a pointed look. Clarke got the message, and with Raven stopping mid-sentence, Clarke was guessing she did too. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m starving. I want pizza.”

Raven stepped towards Clarke and grabbed her hands. “You’re gonna be okay, right?” Clarke nodded. “Well, alright then. Let’s go, Miller.” Raven turned on her heels, and Clarke knew she tried to whisper something to Bellamy, but Clarke was able to smell the alcohol on her breath. When Raven had a few drinks in her, she lost her ability to speak quietly, so it’s the reason why Clarke heard her say, “Don’t fuck it, Blake. I won’t lose her again.”

Clarke didn’t say anything as she turned to walk further into the apartment, and when she heard the door click shut behind her, she tried to keep her breathing steady. It felt like a deja vu, but this conversation wouldn't end with them saying goodbye to one another.

She knew she would have to talk to Bellamy, but she at least hoped she could go over talking points with Raven before she actually did. She slowly took a seat on one end of the sofa. She wanted to make sure to leave enough room between the two of them because she had no idea where this talk was going to go and because sometimes being too close to him made her a little dazed. She needed as clear of a mind as she can get right now.

Bellamy got the hit because he lowered himself on the other end of the sofa, but she could feel the intensity of his stare.

“I,” she started the same time he delicately said, “Clarke.”

“You go,” he gestured to her.

She took a shaky breath. “I’m not entirely sure what to say. There’s a lot I want to say and need to say, but I don’t know how.”

“It’s okay if you can’t. I understand.”

She finally looked at him to meet his gaze. She missed his eyes. They were always so inviting and warm. They lit up with life when he smiled and wrinkles formed on the outside of them. She shook her head not once looking away. “No, I need to. Bellamy,” his name rolled off her lips. And yet, another damn cliché, because his name sounded right coming from her lips like it was meant to be there. “I’m sorry for everything. For pushing you away, for leaving you, for not realizing all you ever wanted to do was help me.” She felt tears prickling her eyes.

“What we had was the best thing to happen to me, and it’s my fault we don’t have it.” She swiped at her cheeks. “I let everything fester inside of me, and instead of talking to you, how you begged me to, I ended it. I guess I knew I was unraveling, and I didn’t want you to get caught in my mess. Because I knew you would. I knew if I went down, you’d be willing to go down with me.” More tears fell. “I couldn’t do that to you. Your whole life you've been putting others before yourself. I couldn’t be something else you needed to fix. I needed to figure out how to do that on my own.”

Bellamy’s eyes were glazed over with a layer of wetness. With one blink, his tears would slide down his cheeks. “I was mad at you for a long time. You broke my heart, and you couldn’t even give me a reason. And then you disappeared for a month, and that just made me madder because I didn’t understand the reason you had for wanting to leave. You ended things, not me.” He blinked, and Clarke wanted to wipe his pain away. “Then you tell us that you almost shot yourself, and I, I,” his voice trembled, “I felt my heart stop. Not having you in my life was hard enough, but to not have you in my life because you were dead,” his head dropped, and Clarke ached to reach out to him. Everything in her told her it might be too much, but as she watched the person she loved with her entire being break down in front of her, she moved without thought and wrapped him in her arms.

Clarke pressed his lips to his temple and mumbled, “I’m sorry for everything, Bellamy.” He tightened his hold on her.

They held each other in the silence. She stroked his hair and smelled his cedar shower gel. This felt like home—feeling his arms around her, being close enough to smell him, just being near him and not wanting to run away. She felt him rub small circles with his thumb on her waist, and she had no idea how she ever said goodbye to this because she stupidly thought it was for the best. She was a fucking idiot for thinking she could do this without him.

“I’ve missed you, Clarke, so much,” he tried to pull her closer. “Please, don’t leave me again,” he whispered against her skin.

“Never.” She came to the realization that she could survive without him. It would be a miserable time every single second she spent away from him, but she could do it. If she wanted to feel alive, she needed to feel whole and Bellamy did that to her. He completed her in a way nothing else or nobody else could. Somewhere along the way of meeting him and getting to know him, she fell irrevocably in love with him.

“I know Octavia and Murphy told you about me and Echo breaking up.” He sat up, but his hands didn’t leave her. He held her hands between hers. “I was an idiot for thinking I could move on when I still loved you because I do, Clarke. I love you, and I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Clarke's breath caught in her throat. “I, I love you, too, Bellamy. I never stopped, but I’m not ready to jump into this. Not yet but I do want to. If you can’t—”

“I’ll wait for you,” he cut her off. “I’ll wait for however long you need. You’re it for me.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Clarke surge forward and pushed her lips to his. Her lips stayed firmly pressed against his sending everything she felt through her kiss. She wanted to deepen it and allow him in, but it wasn’t the right time. She did need to take it slow, but she also needed to feel him.

“I want to show you something. Wait here.” She walked to her room and grabbed the two canvases that held the faces of two people who she now knows will always be with her. She thought about showing Bellamy the one she was working on of him, but it wasn’t finished. A future opened for them, and the background seemed like endless possibilities now. She could add to the gold and purple that were already there. There could be colors for the future children she always hoped they’d have and maybe there would even be a shade of blue for their own memories they’d make at the beach.

But, for now, she’ll finally tell Bellamy all about her dad and Wells. He never got to meet her dad, but Bellamy did get to meet Wells. It was a rough start, but a friendship soon developed between the two of them.

He always wanted her to talk about them after she lost Wells. He told her it helps to talk and share memories, but she thought it was a load of shit because she couldn’t think about them let alone talk about them without crying. The pain was something she didn’t want to feel, but through everything, she learned it wasn’t ideal to stuff everything away. There is only so much a person can stuff into a box before it pops open. She wanted Bellamy to be there for her if she needed him. She could do it alone, leaving for the last seven months proved that, but she didn’t want to. She wanted to fall back on her friends on the bad days, she wanted to talk to Bellamy through her tears. She wanted people around her.

When she returned to the living room, she sat closer to him this time.

“You painted these?” He asked in awe as he stared at them.

“Yeah. Do you want to hear about them?”

He looked at her. “Only if you’re ready to tell me.”

“I am.”

When she left, Clarke had no idea if she was going to be okay. The light in her felt like it was out, and all she had was the dying fire that was seconds away from extinguishing. She thought it was only a matter of time before the darkness consumed her once again, but she held onto hope. Hope that she'd be better. Hope that she’d come home again. As she sat in hers and Raven’s living room, feeling Bellamy’s warmth next to her as he listened to her explain the meaning behind each color in the background, she knew even if she continued to have days that were hard for the rest of her life, she would be okay because she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I always get nervous to post anything I write, so it means a lot when I get a comment or kudos. It's the reassurance that we all need sometimes. Hopefully, I'll be posting something new soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I want to thank everyone who read! It means a lot to me. There's an outline for the second part, but with my schedule, it's going to be a little difficult to find time to write. But hopefully, in the next week or so I'll have the second part ready to post.


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